


Good Vibrations

by Castielslostwings



Series: Good Vibrations [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bossy Bottom Castiel, Bottom Castiel, Castiel getting fucked against a glass door, Castiel works from home i guess, Construction Worker Dean Winchester, Dean in Panties, Dildos, Exhibitionist Castiel (Supernatural), Hand Jobs, I just can't help it, It's Not Addressed, M/M, Sex Toys, Tags Are Hard, Top Dean Winchester, Topping from the Bottom, Unsafe Sex, Voyeurism, casturbation, construction machinery as vibrator, conveniently placed lube, face fucking, i mean literally no plot, just a little, just porn, look they are my otp and i'm incapable of not making it a LITTLE romantic, sorta romantic for porn i guess, that's how little plot there is here, there's also that, yes - Freeform, you should use a condom but this is fanfic and i don't wanna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 22:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16004324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castielslostwings/pseuds/Castielslostwings
Summary: @Naruhearts has major construction going on in her apartment building that's making the whole building vibrate. What's a girl to do but write a Destiel prompt?!Carpenter!Dean’s crew has been contracted to do some work in an apartment complex. The heavy machinery required is causing vibrations that can be felt throughout the entire building. Dean’s a professional, but he’s only human, and he can’t help getting distracted by the sex-haired, gravel-voiced occupant of apartment 1B who seems to be enjoying the vibrations just a liiiittle too much, especially, it seems, when Dean is around to hear it. But Dean is a professional. Right?





	Good Vibrations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naruhearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naruhearts/gifts).



Dean Winchester is good at his job. He’s good at doing his actual job running a construction crew and he prides himself on his professionalism. Working in construction and looking like he strode right off the page of a Calvin Klein print ad lends itself to attracting a certain kind of… attention, but he’s used to it. He’s got it all under control. Even when his crew is working a job in a residential location, it’s not uncommon for Dean to get some stares, a few winks, even the occasional brave soul with their phone number on a piece of paper slipped boldly into his reflective vest pocket (not a good look on anyone, but Dean rocks what he’s got). It’s mostly MILFs with a fantasy to fulfill, and it’s not hard for Dean to turn even the prettiest ones down because he knows they don’t really want him, just his body. The occasional men he attracts are usually slightly better candidates, but Dean doesn’t shit where he eats, even if the job is only temporary. He’s professional. 

So what is he doing, loitering like an idiot just outside the patio leading up to the sliding glass doors of apartment 1B, in the complex that his team has a six-month contract for multiple repairs? So what if the tenant of 1B is the epitome of sex on two legs? With his stupid terminally messy midday sex hair, and his totally lame and not at all completely entrancing ocean blue eyes? And his pouty pink mouth, that Dean is definitely not imagining wrapped around his cock and - whoa, hello inappropriate boner in full view of his crew and any fucking person who might be wandering through the complex courtyard. Fuck. What is he doing? Fuck that guy, Dean thinks, casually trying to adjust himself without attracting attention, and most certainly not glancing again in the direction of the sliding glass doors, to the space inside where Mr. Sex-Hair-Novak (no, no, Dean absolutely did not creep the guy’s name off of his mailbox) sometimes does yoga. He can’t see anyone in there just now, and that’s more disappointing than it maybe should be. 

It is not worth his job or his company’s reputation, Dean scolds his downstairs brain. He forces himself to collect the remnants of his willpower and get back to work. He heads back to his truck and grabs his now-cold coffee from the front seat cup holder, downing it in a couple painful swigs. Refreshing, he thinks sarcastically and rubs at his face in disgust. He bends over his seat to grab the hard hat sitting on the passenger’s side floor and that movement is an ill-timed reminder that attempting to spy on Mr. Novak wasn’t the only bad decision he’s made with his dick today. The soft satin of his panties pulls tight across his ass, riding up his crack just enough to put a bit of pressure on his package and balls. Dean suppresses a groan and definitely does not think about Novak’s thick runner’s thighs wrapped around his waist, his long graceful fingers stroking softly across the front of his panties and-- seriously, what the fuck is he doing? This is not who he is.

But Novak isn’t exactly his usual run-of-the-mill, easy-to-ignore drooling eye candy, either. Despite being literally everything Dean is physically attracted to in a partner, he hasn’t even tried to pick Dean up. In fact, aside from some seriously intense eye-fucking across the courtyard and the occasional half-smile from down the hall as he unlocks his door after a morning run, they’ve never even interacted. It’s wholly possible that Dean is misreading this entire scenario, and Novak isn’t interested in him at all. Except.

Except for the noises. The sex noises, that is. Coming from apartment 1B at all hours of the day, seemingly only when Dean is close enough nearby to hear. Of course, that very well could have something to do with what Novak is apparently getting off to, and not Dean at all. It took Dean a little more time than he’s proud of and one more-or-less accidental peep session through those sliding glass doors to put the pieces together, but now that he has, Dean is fucking hooked.

The dude in 1B is getting off on the vibrations of his construction equipment.

To be fair, the vibrations are intense. Honestly, Dean’s more than used to fielding complaints from tenants left and right about it, but there’s very little he can do. The first order of contracted business for Dean’s crew is breaking down and removing the concrete floor of the building’s basement so that some deep plumbing can be repaired. The floor can then be repoured. Several of the machines needed to get the job done each create strong reverberations that can be felt several floors up, and the machines will be needed for several more weeks. The vibrations are particularly intense on the first floor, something Mr. Novak has apparently no issue with at all.

The building is quite long, and the machines that power the equipment are currently set up on one side, the opposite side from where apartment 1B sits above. Meaning, they’re close enough to cause strong vibrations, but far enough away to keep from overpowering any… noises. This entire week, Dean has listened from multiple locations below as the sex-haired nightmare from 1B moaned and groaned his way to orgasm after orgasm, but only when the machines were on. Until yesterday, when an accidental eyeful took Dean’s casual interest to whatever it is now… which is apparently bordering on stalking. And as he lets himself reflect on the events of the day before, professional or not, Dean decides fuck it, he’s in this, consequences be damned. He deserves something good in his life and damn it, Novak is good. He’s got to find a way to get his attention. Dean leans on the back of his truck and lets himself reflect on what he’s seen.

The day before, Dean’s work day had been moving along like any other, with no sign (sound?) of Novak. He was working on one of the walls in Novak’s hallway, had the drywall cut open to check on some issues that he honestly couldn’t tell you the first thing about today, because as soon as the basement excavators started up, so did Novak’s moans, and Dean was useless.

Novak’s voice is deep and gravelly, his moans come out sounding like pure sin. Dean thinks the man must be a smoker as “God, yes,” and “Oh fuck, right there,” and numerous other little nonsense words tumble out several octaves lower than even Dean can manage, and his voice is no soprano. He definitely does not consider taking up smoking for the express purpose of lighting up near Novak’s patio, waiting to offer him one. Dean knew he shouldn’t be listening, should get up and leave the hallway, and he tries to, he really does. Unfortunately, he has to pass Novak’s apartment first, and the man’s moans are no less audible (and no less tempting) outside, and the curtains to his sliding glass door are wide open. Dean basically has no choice but to look, and after sneaking a peak, he’s pressing the heel of his hand to his crotch and definitely not walking anywhere for several minutes.

The scene is something straight out of Dean’s fantasy reel. Novak is in the middle of his living room, stark naked and kneeling in profile on the hardwood floor. Even from outside the doors Dean can see that his beautiful, tan body is covered in a film of sweat. Novak’s firm, muscular thighs strain and flex as he moves up and down, rolling his hips and impaling himself repeatedly on a huge dildo suction cupped to the floor. Dean knows from where he was crouching in the hallway only moments before that the floor is vibrating something fierce, and Novak is into it. He’s got his back arched and his head thrown back, dark hair an absolute disaster and the long column of his throat bared almost to the ceiling. His right hand is occupied with squeezing his own nipple as his left hand dances across his taut stomach. He’s not even paying attention to his dick, despite the fact that it’s so hard it’s purple and bobbing against his stomach with every up and down bounce. Dean gets it, the prostate action he’s got to be getting with the fake cock and the floor oscillations has to be spectacular. Jesus Christ, Dean had thought to himself, as Novak let out a long, low moan and then bit his lip, how is this man even real? 

Just then, a voice behind him had called his name and Dean had almost pissed himself in fear of being discovered. He was able to do a quick little shift and tuck, and rejoin his crew without anyone becoming the wiser. But just like that, he was addicted. He wanted more. Which is what led him to be lurking like some kind of creeper in the same spot this morning, unfortunately without the great view. And now, he’s grumpy. Worked up and unsatisfied, he grabs his tools and makes his way back into Novak’s building. He has no reason to be upstairs, so he makes his way into the basement, resigned to a likely day of frustrating auditory voyeurism and the world’s worst case of blue balls. 

It’s past noon when he hears Novak again. His co-workers are all on lunch, but Dean opted to work through it. He had no desire to sit still and make small talk with his friends while his mind wandered. And his increasing appetite definitely wasn’t focused on food. Instead, Dean threw himself harder into the manual labor, channeling all of his frustrations into the physical aspect of his job. It was even working, a little bit until the noises ramped up, and the mental images flashing through Dean’s head refused to be ignored. 

Dean growls in frustration, chucking the shovel he’s holding across the basement, where it slams into the wall. The noises from upstairs seem to falter and stop for a moment, but then they kick right back in, which gives Dean an idea. If he can hear Novak… then chances are, Novak can hear him. Dean’s not the most perfect singer, but he’s got a couple classics in his repertoire, and he breaks one of them out now, belting at the top of his lungs to make sure his voice carries through the thin floors.

“Dirty, rotten, filthy, stinking...  
He’s my cherry pie!  
Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise  
Tastes so good make a grown man cry,  
Sweet Cherry Pie!”

The moans stop, and Dean pauses, but they don’t pick up again. Taking a deep breath, he continues,

“Well Swingin' on the front porch, swingin' on the lawn  
Swingin' where we want, ‘cause there ain't nobody home  
Swingin' to the left and swingin' to the right  
If I think about baseball, I'll swing all night yea!” 

He belts out the remainder of the song, complete with pronoun changes, and waits for a reaction of some kind. He swears he hears a deep, full laugh, and then the moans begin again, culminating more quickly in an obvious peak than they have before. Dean’s not sure whether to be pleased or offended, but the basement is quiet for the rest of the day, and Novak doesn’t come to find him. He struggles not to be disappointed and throws himself into his work again to cope, but his memories and imagination of what Novak might be doing in his apartment just aren’t that easy to shake. Goddamn sexy bastard, Dean curses.

***

When the workday is finished, Dean packs up his things and turns down drinks with his co-workers. It’s Friday, and he’s one hundred percent going home to shove something up his ass and get off as hard and as many time as he’s physically capable of. He wants to need sports drinks to rehydrate himself plus an entire day of recovery when he’s done, and nothing is going to get between him and his bed now. So of course, when he walks outside, there’s someone sitting on the lowered tailgate of his truck. Dean can hardly believe his eyes because there on his truck is the sexy bastard himself, wearing an ungodly tight t-shirt that shows off every muscle in his upper body, and soft, ripped, worn-in jeans that Dean can tell will slip to hang tantalizingly from his slim hips as soon as he stands. He’s nonchalantly smoking a joint and swinging his legs, looking perfectly at home, and he fucking smirks at Dean as he approaches.

“Um, hi,” Dean says, and then internally kicks himself because he sounds nervous as fuck. He clears his throat and steps past Novak to drop his gear into the bed of his truck. He steps back so that he’s in front of the man and goes for casual ignorance. “You um, you live here, right?” 

The creature in front of him just continues to smirk and look up at Dean through his dark, full lashes. “Yes,” he drawls, in that deep and husky voice of his that goes straight to Dean’s groin, impossible to listen to without imagining the context of the last time he heard it. “But you know that,” he continues and his smirk widens to a grin. “Or were you too busy watching me get off to take note of the apartment number?” 

Dean’s eyes widen and he licks his lips unconsciously. He hangs his head and says, “Listen, I- I’m really sorry, man. That wasn’t cool. I shouldn’t have-” But he’s cut off by a hand on his chest. Novak has hopped off the back of his truck, toed out his smoke and is standing directly in front of him. He clears his throat. “Um, personal space, man,” he tries, and it comes out as weak as it feels. Novak looks delighted.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” he replies, not moving. His smile never leaves his face and his hand never leaves Dean’s chest. “It is Dean, isn’t it? That’s what I thought I heard your co-worker call you as you were running away from-”

“Okay. Okay, man, I get it. I said I was sorry, what do you want from me?” Dean is blushing something fierce now, and wilting under Novak’s gaze. The man seems unshakeable.

“Cas,” Novak says.

“Um… what?” Dean raises his eyebrows, confused.

“My name. It’s Castiel, but I go by Cas,” Novak explains, and his hand is trailing down Dean’s chest now. “I want you to call me Cas, Dean. Preferably loudly and as you’re coming inside me, but if just watching is what does it for you, I suppose we could figure something out. I really,” he takes a step closer, “enjoy being watched. Especially by someone as attractive as you.” He pauses and seems to consider his next words, “Or listened to,” he adds. “And I very much enjoyed your singing,” he finishes and his eyes are dancing. 

Dean’s eyes widen and he swallows, brain short-circuiting. He’s had some propositions in his lifetime, but this guy’s entire shtick is like something straight out of a Penthouse letter, and Dean’s upstairs brain is not exactly online at the moment. Cas is so close now, his face is turned up toward Dean’s, and he’s leaning in with his head tilted just a little bit to the left. “Cas,” he tries out, and Cas (Castiel?) flushes a bit and takes his hand. “Yea,” he says simply. “Yes.” 

Castiel grins, wide and gummy, and Dean’s heart flutters a little bit. Castiel turns toward his building and takes off, dragging Dean behind him with a soft but firm grip on his hand, and Dean is only human so he watches Cas’ ass every step of the way. As he suspected, the jeans have fallen to a temptingly low place of rest, the very top of Castiel’s crack peeking out over the top of the band. Dean has to close his eyes for a minute and decide whether he believes this is really happening, or whether he thinks he must have fallen and knocked his head on the concrete basement floor. This could all be some kind of fucked up coma-dream that ends with him in a hospital bed and his family by his side, watching him sport a giant boner in his sleep. When his closed eyes cause him to trip a little over his own feet, and Castiel whirls around to catch him just before he falls, leaving Dean pressed up against the hard line of Cas’ body and inches from two gorgeous pools of blue, he decides reality is way overrated if Cas isn’t there. He takes the initiative and steps out to pull Cas along now, because if he’s doing this (and he is definitely doing this) fuck if he wants to wait any longer.

Cas’ smile never wavers as he happily allows himself to be led. When they arrive at his apartment door he slides past Dean to open it, letting his fingers drag over Dean’s ass and hip as he goes. Dean doesn’t waver for an instant, stepping inside and pushing the door closed behind him. Castiel’s living room looks pretty much the same from the inside as it does from the outside- minus the giant floor dildo, which has since disappeared from its prominent place on the floor. Castiel steps close to him again, and roughly turns him around by the hips, pressing Dean gently but firmly up against the door. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Castiel purrs in his low-registered growl, “But if I had to guess, you seem like the type who enjoys a little manhandling…” Dean’s dick is definitely paying attention now, straining against the satin, the door providing a bit of delicious pressure. He moans his agreement and nods, just in case Castiel didn’t get the message, but the man isn’t done. He lets his fingers skim the top of Dean’s jeans, hooking them over and pulling down, letting out a groan of his own when he sees what’s beneath. “I thought so,” he murmurs, “I caught a glimpse the other day when you were crouched in the hallway… haven’t stopped thinking about them since.” 

Dean whirls around, flushing in horror as it occurs to him that if Cas has seen his panties, his co-workers probably have too. How many people know Dean’s private little secret? This is incredibly embarrassing and pulls Dean unwillingly out of the moment. He scrubs his face, and can hardly lift his eyes to meet Cas’. When he does, he sees a knitted expression of concern, looking adorable but completely out of place on the man’s face. “Dean?” Cas asks, “Are you alright?”

Dean takes a breath and shakes his head, letting his glance dart around the room, instead of focusing on Cas. “Yeah, man,” he lies. “Just… Kinda didn’t realize I was rocking a free peep show at work.” 

Castiel’s concerned look melts slowly off of his face, and a mischievous little smile takes its place. “And that bothers you? The idea that someone might see that part of you? See you… enjoying yourself and perhaps enjoy that themselves?” He backs away from Dean, into the middle of the room and awaits Dean’s answer. This should be an easy, obvious one for Dean but for some reason, it really isn’t. 

Dean shrugs, “Well… yea,” he replies lamely. “I guess? I mean, shouldn’t it?” Dean’s not sure when he forgot exactly who he is speaking to, a man who has no issue fucking himself on a fake penis in full view of anyone who happens to stroll by his apartment, but for some reason he’s surprised when Castiel’s reaction to his answer is to strip off all of his clothes and face Dean with his hands out, palms up. His eyes are glued to Castiel’s beautiful body; his miles of tanned, toned skin, the rippling muscles in his thighs and arms, the sexy day-old stubble covering his jaw and neck. Messy hair that Dean is dying to get his fingers in, and his thick hard cock, standing at attention and beckoning Dean to toss his usual inhibitions aside and fall to his knees in worship. 

“Come here,” is all he says, flexing his hands closed and then open again, beckoning Dean closer. Dean steals a glance at the sliding glass doors, still completely curtainless and facing the courtyard. There’s no one out there right now, but that could change at any moment, a fact Dean is all too aware of, but he finds himself moving forward anyway. When he reaches Castiel, the man slides his hands up and under Dean’s shirt, pushing it up and over his head, and then goes right for his belt, which is when Dean stops him. “Cas,” he says. “I really want to do this,” he says, “Like, you’re hot as fuck and I’ve pretty much had blue balls for 12 hours at this point, but this,” he gestures towards the glass, “is not really my thing.” 

Castiel lets his hand slide down a few inches from Dean’s jean buttons, caressing softly over the hardness that’s still very much there. He looks down at his own hands touching Dean, and then back up, eyes boring through Dean’s as if he can see his straight through to his soul. “Are you sure about that?” He asks, and Dean swallows. Castiel’s eyes track the motion, and then he’s leaning in, kissing Dean’s mouth just as he’s done everything else - gently, but firmly, and in a way that has Dean forgetting all his reservations in seconds. He opens for Castiel, greedily sucks his tongue in, bites it gently and Castiel growls a little in approval, his big hands tightening on Dean’s hips. Dean’s own hands go up to Castiel’s head, one on his jaw, the other threading through his hair and pulling on the short strands. 

Another noise of approval slips from Cas, and Dean almost can’t believe that this is their first meeting. It all feels so natural and good, like Castiel already knows him, like they’ve done this a million times and know just how to fit together. They kiss, and lick, and bite at each other’s mouths and it’s satisfying in a way Dean’s not sure he’s really experienced before with just kissing. Before he really knows what’s happening, Castiel has his pants down and he’s somehow stepping out willingly. Castiel has left the pink panties on but pulled them down just enough to free Dean’s cock, his long fingers already wrapped around it, stroking loosely. Dean pulls back just slightly and Cas’ expression is so full of desire and lust, his eyelids hooded and his kiss-swollen bottom lip pulled between his teeth. 

“Dean,” he says, and Dean swears his voice has dropped another octave, which should be fucking impossible but instead is just fucking hot, “You are stunning. You should never feel shame to be seen. Anyone would be lucky to catch a glimpse of you like this, so open and free.” Dean averts his eyes a little, but he’s not quite as opposed as he was a few minutes ago. “But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” Castiel continues. “I can close the curtains if that’s what you wish.” Castiel walks the fingers of his free hand up Dean’s chest, and Dean pulls him in a little tighter. “I think that I’d very much enjoy giving you whatever you want,” he finishes with a smile. 

Dean steals a glance at the wall of glass again, and back at Castiel, shaking his head. “Leave it,” he says, surprising himself. 

Castiel’s smile widens, and Dean can’t help but smile too at the sight. “I knew there was something special about you,” Castiel says, leaning in for a soft kiss and letting his lips trail along Dean’s jaw and down his neck to his collarbone, as his hand tightens on Dean’s cock. “You have a beautiful cock,” he sighs, into Dean’s skin. “I would very much like to feel it inside of me now.” He steps away and opens the drawer of a side table, pulling out lube. Dean isn’t surprised in the least that Castiel keeps lube in the living room, at this point. Castiel takes his hand and pulls him over to a couch that looks way too nice to ruin with lube stains, but he doesn’t hesitate, just pulls Dean down on top of him, pressing the bottle into Dean’s hand. 

Much as Dean enjoys being bossed around, he does have ideas of his own, and he’s not leaving here without getting Cas’s pretty cock in his mouth. He takes the lube but instead of going for it, he slides down Cas’ body until he’s on all fours between the vee of his legs. The man looks surprised but pleased as Dean opens his mouth and takes almost all of Cas in one go, sliding down and giving a hard suck that makes the man’s hips jolt right off the couch. He bobs his head enthusiastically, letting his tongue swirl and his cheeks hollow, really pulling out all the stops. Giving head is something Dean’s always prided himself on, he knows he’s good at it, and he gets off on taking his partner apart like this. 

And come apart Cas does. He’s unrestrained with his reactions, moaning wantonly and spreading his legs to give Dean more access, bucking his hips up as much as Dean will let him and grabbing Dean’s short hair to direct his head up and down a little bit. Dean lets him, feels pleased to show off his abilities, slackening his jaw and letting Castiel just take what he wants from him. He rolls Cas’ balls between his fingers and gives them each an intermittent squeeze. When Castiel seems really lost to the pleasure, Dean slicks up a finger and finds his way between the man’s cheeks. The furled muscle there sucks in his finger easily, and Castiel groans, pushing down on it right away. “More,” he demands, tightening his grip on Dean’s hair. Dean adds a second finger and only has to scissor for a minute or two before Castiel is demanding more again. In no time he’s got four fingers moving freely and a pretty good handle on where Cas’ prostate is. He lets his fingers brush the spot a few times, enraptured with the way Castiel squirms and thrashes under him. The man is not a passive participant. Dean pulls off of his cock for a moment, and Castiel is sitting up, twining his arms around Dean’s torso and pulling him forward to press against him, kissing him hard. “So good, Dean,” he murmurs against Dean’s lips and Dean can only agree, pushing Cas’ lips wide with his own and plundering Cas’ mouth with his tongue. 

He’s not prepared for Castiel to break the kiss, pushing him back and standing up. Cas smiles when he sees Dean’s confused expression, and offers his hand, helping Dean to his feet as well. He pushes Dean’s panties down and off finally, then grabs the lube and slicks up Dean’s dick, the sudden coolness and pressure making Dean almost double over after neglecting it for so long. He leads them over to the glass doors and releases Dean’s hand, placing both of his own on the glass and bending over slightly, presenting his ass, and Dean feels hot all over. Now that it’s getting dark outside, he can see himself and Castiel reflected in the glass, Castiel’s cock hanging heavy between his legs, his chest heaving, his eyes locked on Dean’s. “Come on,” he growls, and that’s all the invitation Dean needs. He grabs Castiel’s hip with one hand and lines himself up with the other, the head of his dick pressing against Castiel’s slick hole and he pushes inside. 

Castiel isn’t quiet about this, either. He groans loudly and pushes back against Dean, sliding him home twice as fast until their hips are flush together. Dean tips his head back and takes a deep, centering breath. Cas is hot and wet and tight and clenching like it’s his job. “Cas,” he breathes, “You’re going to want to stop that if you want this to last more than 5 seconds.” 

Castiel’s reflection grins and he answers by rolling his hips and demanding, “Fuck me, Dean, fuck me hard.” Dean tightens his grip on Cas’ hip and begins to thrust, aiming for the bundle of nerves he’d found earlier, and finding it if Cas’ moans are anything to go by. “Harder,” Castiel insists and Dean shifts forward, wrapping one arm around Cas’ chest and bracing the other on the glass, below where Cas’s hand is. He nips Castiel’s shoulder and then really slams home, fucking up into him as hard and fast as possible. When Castiel’s moans get louder and he grunts out, “Close, close, don’t stop, oh Dean,” Dean drops the arm pressing across his chest down to wrap those fingers around Cas’ leaking cock. With a gorgeous low moan, Castiel comes all over Dean’s hand and the glass in front of him. Dean strokes him through it and then manhandles him up against the glass, legs spread, to fuck him relentlessly while he chases his own orgasm which takes no time at all. He comes hot and hard inside Castiel, both of them groaning and Castiel squeezing his hand against the glass. It’s a lot more intimate than Dean would have imagined a position like this could be. 

Both of them spent, they slide to the floor, and Castiel pillows his head on Dean’s chest, one leg thrown over both of Dean’s own. “I don’t even care that I’m laying on wood,” Dean huffs, chest still heaving. Castiel’s cheek slides against his sweaty pec as he nods, laughing quietly. 

“Mmmm,” he replies. “That was wonderful, Dean. Thank you.” After a moment or two, Castiel pushes to a sitting position, and for the first time, he looks a little unsure. “Um… if you’d like to shower before you go, you’re more than welcome,” he says, tucking his legs up under him.

Dean suddenly realizes that he’s not the only one in the room who’s used to people only wanting him for his body, only interested in what he can do for them in the short-term, and it makes him a little angry on Castiel’s behalf. He clears his throat and replies, “Kicking me to the curb already, Cas?” He keeps his tone soft and flashes Castiel his patented panty-dropper smile. 

Castiel looks surprised, but he shakes his head. “No, I mean, I just thought… you’d want to stay?” The hopeful look on his face breaks Dean’s heart a little more. 

Dean sits up and leans forward, kissing Castiel softly on the lips. He gets to his feet and helps Cas up too. “Maybe you could give me a tour of the rest of your apartment. I can’t promise I won’t raid your fridge though, I’m starving. Someone in this room is responsible for me skipping lunch.” Castiel nods and takes his hand, squeezing a few times as he leads Dean to the kitchen. 

“I can do that,” he says warmly, eyes sparkling. 

Dean stops short and looks at Castiel sideways. “Wait- you don’t have windows in your kitchen too, do you?” 

Castiel throws his head back and laughs, replying with a wink. “You’ll just have to come with me and find out, now won’t you?” He takes off for the kitchen, still completely naked, and Dean doesn’t think twice before following. 

He thinks he might follow Castiel anywhere. The floor vibrates as he walks away.

**Author's Note:**

> IDK if y'all would like to see this become a series then sound off in the comments... i can definitely picture some more adventures for these two.
> 
> **edit: the people have spoken, so go ahead and hit subscribe to the series if you’d like updates ;)


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